


The Greatest Gift

by kethni



Category: American Gothic (TV 1995)
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/M, High School, Pre-Canon, Statutory Rape, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28313361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: The teacher flicked a look at Lucas over her shoulder. He smiled sweetly. That was never a good sign. She had been a teacher only for five years, but she’d already learned that there were two types of children who smiled that confidently at teachers: goody-two-shoes, and complete hellions. While the responses that Lucas garnered varied, nobody claimed that he was a goody-two-shoes.
Relationships: Lucas Buck/Angela
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The Greatest Gift

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to crazymaryt who asked for 'a story with Lucas and maybe what happened the first time he experienced his "powers" or whatever you wish to call them.' 
> 
> It's canon in the show that Lucas had an underage relationship with an older woman when he was sixteen. I've tried to explore that a little but also acknowledge the wrongness of the situation. There's no good guys here! I can't find out what the age of consent would've been at the time so I've just gone with current laws.

Lucas was bored. This was rarely a state of affairs that persisted for long. He was generally very good at amusing himself, although whether other people were equally amused varied wildly.

He crossed his long legs at the knee and tapped the air with his foot as he watched the teacher walking around the room. Lucas was not much given to academic pursuits. They required a certain diligence and commitment that didn’t suit his nature. It was a turn of personality which had long frustrated his father. Not that Daddy Buck had much respect for book learnin’ either, but he would’ve appreciated it if Lucas was willing to stick to something, anything, for longer than a few weeks.

It would have been less frustrating even if the boy was slow. It would’ve made him useless, mind you, but it would’ve been less frustrating. But despite his father’s best efforts, or perhaps to _spite_ his father’s best efforts, Lucas had reached the age of sixteen just as subject to sudden and powerful passions that flared up as intensely as gasoline on a fire, and burned away just as quickly.

There were times when it was more than frustrating. Lucas’s erratic enthusiasms at least tended to keep him occupied. Lucas needed to be kept occupied. Some boys could sit and stare at fish in a pond for hours. Lucas was not such a boy. Lucas, with not enough to do and plenty of time to fill, caused what his momma called “mischief,” his daddy called “misbehaviour,” and the law _mostly_ called “misdemeanours.”

The teacher flicked a look at Lucas over her shoulder. He smiled sweetly. That was never a good sign. She had been a teacher only for five years, but she’d already learned that there were two types of children who smiled that confidently at teachers: goody-two-shoes, and complete hellions. While the responses that Lucas garnered varied, _nobody_ claimed that he was a goody-two-shoes.

He was a good-looking boy. Sun-kissed brown hair, hazel eyes, and an incipient strong jaw. Handsome and he knew it. The kind of boy who she was old enough now to be infuriated by. Infuriated by his easy grace when all his fellows were gangling and awkward. Infuriated by the fact that he alone always had clear, perfect skin. Infuriated by his laziness, his reliance on charm and charisma, and his refusal to use the brain that she was damn sure he had.

Infuriated now by the way that he slid his gaze slowly down her and then back up again. Infuriated by the way his smile became older and far more suggestive. Infuriated by the knowing wink that he gave her as her hands tightened into fists.

‘That’s it, you’re in detention!’ she snarled.

The other children startled, confused just who she was talking to, and why.

Lucas straightened in his seat and looked around as if thinking that she was talking to someone behind him.

‘Continue this charade, Mr Buck, and I will send you to the principal to explain your behaviour,’ she snapped.

Now the other children were whispering to each other, relieved not to be the focus of her ire, excited to directly witness drama happening to someone else.

‘If that’s what you want, Ma’am,’ Lucas said.

That _voice_. She’d forgotten about that voice. It wasn’t the voice of a teenage boy. There was no trace of creak or crack, nothing whatsoever to acknowledge that its owner was still changing from a boy to a man. It was a soft but deep timbre that accentuated his lightly rolling North Carolina accent.

‘It is what I want,’ she retorted, already aware that she had relinquished control of the situation.

Lucas cocked his head. ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he said meekly. ‘I’m very happy to give you exactly what you want.’

If she had been stood in front of him then she would have slapped him. She wasn’t and instead felt her face burning and the chatter of the children fall into a meaningless buzz as his handsome, sweetly smiling face took all her attention.

Lucas was always _very_ good at amusing himself.

***

She was cleaning off the blackboard when she heard the door to the classroom swing open and soft-soled shoes walk in. She looked over her shoulder and her shoulders tensed.

‘Mr Buck,’ she said, clasping her hands together.

‘Ma’am,’ he said, walking into the room. He didn’t go to his usual desk towards the middle back of the room but instead put down his bookbag at the desk nearest to her.

She hadn’t realised how tall he was. Obviously, she knew he was _tall_. It was hardly something that could take her by surprise. It was just that she was so used to seeing him as part of a group or sat down in class. On his own, stood up, and so close that she could see the fine wisps at the edge of his hairline, she realised that he was taller than she was.

She started to move her right foot but didn’t step back. ‘I trust that we’re not going to have any nonsense where you pretend not to know why you’re here.’

He tilted his head as he looked into her face too long and far too intently. ‘My momma tells me that my mischief sometimes annoys people,’ he said. ‘I guess sometimes I need to be _punished_.’

She glanced at the door. She couldn’t stop herself. She knew that he saw her do it. It was a tacit admission that she understood his meaning.

‘You’re not in front of your cronies, now,’ she said. ‘There’s no crowd for you to play to.’

He shrugged. ‘Can’t we play, Ma’am?’

She set her jaw. ‘I would have thought by now that it was obvious that I don’t find you very amusing, Mr Buck.’

His lips curved into a small smile. ‘I’ll keep working on it.’

She licked her lips and put her hand onto the desk. ‘I would rather you concentrate your efforts on your English schoolwork. You’re obviously perfectly capable of much better grades.’

He scratched his forehead. She was surprised to notice how well cared for his hands were. The nails were precisely cut and scrupulously clean. They almost shone.

‘I get by,’ he said. ‘Schooling ain’t my strong suit. I can’t seem to summon up any passion for it. There’s always so much else in life grabbing at my interest.’

‘That’s an excuse for laziness,’ she said. ‘Whatever you plan to do with your life, a good education will help you. Science and math are the basis for how the world works but English will tell you how _people_ work, how they think, and why they act the way they do.’

That got his attention. For the only time she could remember he looked genuinely surprised.

‘English?’ he queried. ‘Not psychology or psychiatry or…’

She waved her hand. ‘English is more important. There is not a thought in your head that isn’t shaped by your grasp of language, Lucas. Language will tell you more about a person than anything else. The words they choose, the tone of voice, the hesitations, the things that they don’t say. Literature is even more important! You can meet more people in stories then you will _ever_ meet in real life, people of all ages, races, and walks of life. Literature can teach you empathy and without empathy you will _never_ understand what drives other people. Without understanding that, other people will always be a mystery to you. Oh, and narrative! Narrative is the clockwork that drives civilisation. Humanity defines itself by the stories human beings tell. It’s what separates us from the animals.’

She caught her breath, startled by her own outburst, expecting him to laugh in her face. Instead he leaned onto the desk, his hand a hair away from hers, and licked his lips.

‘I never thought of it that way. I can’t say that I’ve read many books. The ones in class can be a little… heavy for me.’ He looked her in the face again. ‘Maybe you could recommend something a little more exciting that I could get into?’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Oh. Um, an adventure story?’

She saw him turn the idea over. Saw him very delicately nibble his lower lip.

‘I could go for an adventure,’ he said. ‘Or something thrilling.’ His eyes brightened with humour. ‘I like to be thrilled.’

She laughed despite herself. ‘Uh, okay, maybe a crime novel then.’

He shrugged. ‘Sure, something dangerous maybe. A little romantic.’

She cleared her throat. ‘Have you heard of _The Postman Always Rings Twice_? I can lend it to you.’

Lucas smiled warmly. ‘I’d like that Ma’am, thank you.’

She could feel the warmth of his hand next to hers. She could smell the light scent of his skin.

Sixteen. He was sixteen. A child. An utterly infuriating child.

She took a step back. ‘Okay, take a seat. I’ve got some books that need to be fixed.’

He groaned softly. ‘Yay.’ 

***

Momma was fixing dinner when Lucas wandered into the house. She threw him a dark look and inclined her face as she waited for him to make his homage.

‘You’re awful late,’ she said as he kissed her cheek. 

‘English teacher kept me behind,’ he said, stealing a cookie from the jar on the counter.

His momma slapped his hand. ‘Don’t you be ruining your appetite.’

‘No risk of that,’ he said, leaning back against the counter.

She turned the stove off. ‘What did you do?’

He looked innocently blank.

‘Don’t give me that, Lucas Buck,’ she said. ‘What did you do to make that flighty little thing hold you back after school?’

He shrugged easily. ‘She didn’t like my attitude I figure. Got riled up when I said almost nothing at all.’

His mother shook her head. ‘There ain’t no point in you playing up to your little friends if running off your mouth vexes your teachers.’

‘No, Ma’am.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘What did you do in detention?’

Lucas ate the stolen cookie. ‘Stitched up some broken books.’

His momma pushed back her hair. ‘No, what did you do with the teacher. You can’t pull that “no Ma’am” on me. You win her around somehow?’

He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Maybe, not sure yet. She lent me a book to read. Wants me to learn about the magic of literature.’

His momma nodded. ‘What’s the book?’

‘ _The Postman Always Rings Twice_ , I think it’s a crime story.’

She laughed. ‘Oh, it’s that. They made the movie twice. Lana Turner. Now there was a woman.’

‘I ain’t started reading it yet,’ Lucas admitted. ‘You think it’s worth it?’

Momma Buck gave her son a thoughtful look. ‘The book or your teacher?’

He thought about it. ‘One is kinda predicated on the other.’

‘She teach you that ten dollar word? Predicated. I like that,’ she said. She reached out to brush her fingers through his hair. ‘Ambition and appetite are fine things, Lucas. I wouldn’t dream of trying to hold you back.’

He clucked his tongue. ‘Daddy is gonna tell me not to put more on my plate than I can eat.’

She shrugged. ‘Well, he’s one for worrying about you, that’s for sure.’

Lucas turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. ‘You don’t?’

She smiled. ‘You know me better than that, darlin’. All baby birds need to leave the nest. Either you’ll fly or you won’t.’ She ran her thumb across his lips. ‘Either way it’s a learnin’ opportunity for you.’

***

Lucas was only listening with half an ear as the other boys talked. While he was certainly interested in girls, and it could be useful to know which boy was mooning after which girl, he had no interest in sports, and only a passing interest in hunting. The boys of his immediate social circle had only those three topics of conversation. As much as his father had told him about _family_ and _legacy_ and blah blah blah, what had really grounded Lucas in his own skin, was time like this. Half listening to the mindless chatter, half watching the desperate attempts to connect, half present in his own life.

He had been ten when things began to change. That was how it always was. His daddy had told him that it would take him years to come into his power. When he was ten, it had been reassuring. The promise of power had been more frightening than tantalising.

It didn’t last. After six years his fear had receded as his confidence had grown. Now he could feel possibilities that had long been beyond his grasp at his fingertips.

‘Better watch out, Lucas, else she’ll be givin’ ya detention again for bein’ alive or somethin’,’ Dickie said.

Lucas frowned slightly and followed Dickie’s vague gesture to where their English teacher was stomping along towards the parking lot of the grocery store, carrying bags of groceries.

‘Look at that,’ Bertie said. ‘Woman that age and no man to carry her groceries.’

‘No wonder she’s got a screw loose,’ Matty suggested.

Lucas got to his feet and started walking towards her.

‘You ain’t goin’ over there?’ Dickie hissed. ‘She’ll have you in detention until Christmas.’

Lucas glanced back. ‘Maybe. Maybe she just needs someone to show her some decent manners.’

‘You’re wild,’ Bertie said, shaking his head. ‘She hates you.’

‘More reason to make nice with her,’ Lucas called back.

He had to jog a little to catch up to her. She moved pretty quickly despite the heels and the heavy bags. She heard his steps, glanced over her shoulder and then stopped when she saw it was him.

He’d frightened her. He saw it in her face. He knew that some boys thought that was a kind of power. A way to pull grown women down to their level. Below it, even, if you pushed it to the conclusion. Lucas wasn’t convinced. If it was a power, then it was a petty and borrowed sort of power dependent entirely on reminding women of the pain and injury caused by generations of other men. Lucas had very little interest in that kind of power.

‘Sorry, Ma’am,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘I was just going to ask if you needed help with your groceries.’

‘Oh.’ She glanced around quickly, as if checking if anyone else was around.

‘May I?’ he asked, already reaching forward and taking the bags from her. They were heavier than he expected. Not too heavy at all to carry but heavy enough that it made him sure she had less to worry about from him then she obviously thought.

‘Thank you,’ she muttered, before she took a breath and pulled herself together a little. ‘I’m parked over there.’

He walked along with her as she strode towards a neat little Station Wagon. It stood out among the trucks, but it was pretty much what he would’ve expected. A truck wouldn’t have suited her. Hell, a truck didn’t much suit him either.

‘What’re you doing here?’ she asked, sounding less accusing and more curious.

‘Just hanging around with some friends,’ he said, cocking his head to where the other boys were stood around in front of the malt shop. ‘Saw you come out of the store.’

She looked over to where the other boys were staring with frank curiosity.

‘I hope that you’re not there to waylay your female classmates,’ she said, with a laugh that was obviously trying to appear much more casual than she felt.

Lucas smiled easily and shrugged. ‘No, Ma’am. Some of those girls are _mean_.’

That got a genuine laugh. She unlocked her trunk. ‘How are you enjoying the novel?’

Lucas pursed his lips a little as he thought about it. ‘I like the style of writing a lot and it is thrilling.’

She opened the trunk. ‘There’s something you don’t like?’

‘Not exactly.’ He didn’t move past her but instead leaned forward to put the bags in the trunk, pushing his body against hers. He felt her stiffen and heard her breath hitch. ‘I just don’t get why he’d do it.’

He straightened up but didn’t step back. No longer had his weight pressing her against the car but his body was still brushing up against hers.

‘There’s the money,’ she said, her breath hitching.

‘There’s easier ways to get money, even breaking the law,’ Lucas said. ‘Less dangerous too. I don’t know that I’d trust her not to kill me as well.’

She licked her lips. ‘Well… there’s the other motive of course,’ she said, her voice tight. ‘Lust is… quite compelling as motivation goes.’

‘Hmm,’ Lucas said. ‘You think that’s what it is? I have a terrible time getting my ahead around it.’

A little flush came into her cheeks. ‘Well, you’re very young.’

He sighed theatrically. ‘Don’t stop my daddy telling me I’m just full of sin. Still not got a grip of lust though.’

She laughed again and looked at his mouth. ‘I think that you’re teasing me, Mr Buck.’

‘You call me Lucas, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘I kinda like the way you say it.’

She put her hand on his bare arm. Her fingers were pale against his brown skin. ‘I should be going. Thank you for helping with the bags.’

‘Yes, Ma’am,’ he took a step back. ‘I enjoyed discussing the book. Maybe sometime we can talk about lust some more.’

He watched her glance around again, this time worried that there might be other people around.

‘We, um, we could discuss tutoring sometime,’ she mumbled. ‘I could help you with your grades.’

Lucas smiled. ‘I’d like that a lot.’

***

His parents were fighting when he got home. That had been happening more lately. As Lucas climbed up the heavy stairway, he heard his name in the flow of the argument. That had been happening more lately as well.

He could have crept up to the door and listened. Maybe they would notice and maybe they wouldn’t. Hell, he could probably just walk right in and ask what was going on. But he was too old for the first and too young for the second. He was always being told that he was told old for this or too young for that. It didn’t seem like he’d been the right age for anything in a dog’s age.

As he opened his bedroom door, he heard a flat, dull thud from the kitchen. He winced. Daddy Buck couldn’t win arguments with words. That was something that Lucas had learned for himself, eventually.

Later, his father would wail in bed as pain ate at his guts, or squeal like a pig as he passed blood in his stool. Mama Buck had her ways to continue arguments. That was something his father _still_ hadn’t learned.

She had never done that to Lucas, but he had never raised his hand to her. She was smaller than he was, barely reaching his chest, and as slight as a stalk of corn. He would have never thought of raising his hand to her. Not out of fear _for_ her, mind. Fear _of_ her.

He dreamed of striking his father.

He heard the older man’s thudding steps on the stairs. Heard the slight creak as he swayed.

Lucas stood up as Daddy Buck shoved open the bedroom door and glowered at him. Every day a little angrier and a little more afraid.

‘Where’ve you been, boy?’

‘I was at the malt shop, Sir.’

‘Why can I smell perfume on you?’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Don’t you go spreading your seed around, boy. There’s only one man in this house and he’s standing in front of you.’

Lucas set his shoulders. ‘No, Sir.’

‘I hear tell that you have, and I will strangle the baby with my bare hands, you hear me? I will brook no damn insurrection!’

He wasn’t an old man, not really. Lucas knew that. He was tired though and weak. It was weakness that made for cruelty and bullying. Lucas’s mama had told him that and he knew that she was right. His father was screaming about insurrection like he thought that Lucas was going to sneak up on him one day and stab him in the guts.

‘Not my style, Sir,’ Lucas said.

Daddy Buck narrowed hard, narrow eyes. ‘What did you say?’

Lucas shrugged. ‘When I come for you, Sir, and we both know that it’s on its way, I will look you in the eye.’

His father stepped forward until they were practically nose-to-nose. Lucas saw the surprise in his daddy’s eyes that Lucas didn’t give an inch. The surprise, and the fear.

‘You’re gonna come for me, are you?’ he growled.

‘You told me, Sir, it’s my legacy,’ Lucas said. He knew that his hands were fists.

‘Well it ain’t your legacy _yet,_ ’ he snarled, unbuckling his belt.

***

She blew out her cheeks as she walked towards the gym. It shouldn’t have surprised anyone that there had been a food poisoning outbreak at the BBQ place by beach. She’d been there herself, once, and there wasn’t enough money in the world to send her back. She’d have thought that Coach Russell was too smart to have his damn birthday party there but here she was, drafted in to cover for him while he recovered.

The boys flowed into the gym like a mess of puppies too excited to do anything but jump at each other and bark their happiness.

She noticed the one still shape. She shouldn’t have been surprised that it was him. Lucas Buck. Stood off to her side, watching the other boys with a kind of patient and faintly patronising air. Then he looked at her and smiled.

‘Ma’am.’

‘Number Six,’ she said.

He was blank for a second and then grinned, realising that she was talking about the number proudly displayed on his tank. 

She started to return his grin but made a show of looking at her clipboard. She saw him wave to someone. When she turned, she saw a gaggle of giggling schoolgirls looking through the doors. ‘You shouldn’t encourage them,’ she said severely.

‘Sorry, Ma’am,’ he said without a trace of penitence in his tone. ‘I’ll try to save my encouragement for ladies more deserving.’

She flashed him a look as she went to shoo the girls away, but he just grinned at her.

***

She saw it first when he jumped to take a shot. It was only a flash. She wasn’t sure at all what it was. A darker stripe, blue and purple, along his lightly tanned skin appearing from his shorts and disappearing somewhere under his tank.

She moved around the outside of the court so that she was on his other side when she saw it again. Three distinct stripes running up from his waist somewhere towards his shoulders.

It was something that happened but not something that was discussed in training. Not considered “appropriate” for there to be official guidance. Damn. It would have been simpler if it had been one of the other boys. Not _easier_ but simpler.

At the end of the class she called him over, trying to stand back from the mass of teenage boys who she fervently hoped were on their way to the showers.

Lucas ambled over, perhaps the slightest suggestion of colour in his cheeks, perhaps the tiniest hint of heavier breath, but nothing else.

‘Yes, Ma’am?’

She licked her lips. There were too many other students around. It was unlikely enough that he’d talk to her about it at all, let alone surrounded by other boys.

‘I… Uh, I was wondering if we talk,’ she said. ‘I thought it might be good for you to have someone to discuss things with.’

He looked genuinely blank. ‘About what?’

She cursed herself. ‘Um, I tell you what, why don’t you come by my house after school and we can discuss it then. I’m on Holly. Number 27.’

‘You want to talk about talking?’ he asked. He shrugged. ‘Okay.’ He smiled slightly. ‘I’d like to talk about the novel some more.’

She felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘Well, uh… I’ll see you later on.’

‘Okay, Ma’am,’ he said, and flicked a little look up and down her body. It wasn’t the same way that he’d looked at her before. That had been a challenge. An outright taunt that he could look at her however he wanted and there was nothing she could do about it that didn’t leave her looking like a bully, or hysterical. This look was almost… shy. She wasn’t even sure that he knew she’d seen it.

Damn.

***

There was a hullabaloo as Lucas ambled through the neat suburban streets. A bunch of cars around the Healy house. Lucas stopped for a couple minutes to look over. He didn’t know the family well. Both the boys were younger than he was, and the parents weren’t quite high up enough in the social strata to have any contact with his parents. Not back woods folks by any means but the kind who worked in stores or mines, not owned them. Followers, not leaders. His momma didn’t much like him hanging out with boys she thought beneath him, but she didn’t protest too much. Lucas was of the opinion that followers were important else who’re you gonna lead?

He was just walking away when the hearse drew up. Trinity hadn’t got around to getting itself a real coroner yet. Bill Tyler at the funeral home did his best and everyone agreed that was good enough mostly.

Someone dead then. Not one of the boys from the size of the body. Lucas caught a glimpse of Mrs Healy in the window watching them taking the body away. Lucas wondered what it was like seeing a real dead body. He’d read about it some. Mostly lurid articles about corpses groaning and moving from the trapped air. He’d have liked to go over and look but that would never do. There were ways and times to make yourself the centre of attention his momma said. He was pretty damn sure this wasn’t it.

The house he was looking for was pretty nice for a lady with no man to do around the place. Not that his own father was much of one for upkeep but at least he paid for the variety of help who kept the Buck house in the condition that his mother expected. She wasn’t exactly one for washing her own dishes or wielding her own duster either. She was an absolute fiend for making sure that the maids and housekeeper were keeping up to her standards though.

Lucas went around the back and knocked on the kitchen door politely. He looked around as he heard the jingle of a bicycle bell. Judy riding past. She was younger than he was but a pretty thing. She’d made no effort to hide being a little sweet on him. Lucas gave her a lazy wave. Maybe when she was a little older, she’d be more interesting. Right now, he was more concerned in learning than in teaching.

He smiled when the backdoor was opened, and his teacher greeted him. She’d taken down her hair and changed her makeup somehow. He wouldn’t like to hazard a guess exactly what she’d done but it looked softer and warmer.

‘Afternoon, Ma’am.’

‘We’re not in school, Lucas,’ she said. ‘You can probably call me Angie.’

He raised his eyebrows a little. ‘Okay, Angie.’

***

‘Do you drink coffee?’ she asked, moving over to the pot. Now that he was here, in the little kitchen that always felt too cluttered and too small, she was suddenly uncomfortable to be close to him.

‘Not tried it yet,’ he said, leaning back against the counter. ‘Maybe it’s a good day for trying new things.’

Angie pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. The way that he was leaning pushed forward his crotch and his long legs. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting that he’d never… No. She knew that things were different in little Southern towns like Trinity. People were still getting married at nineteen and twenty for God’s sake. There was no way that this boy, swaggering confidently through life, spilling constant innuendos, making a damn _play_ for her, had never… No.

‘Growing up is all about trying new things and learning new skills,’ she suggested. ‘Do you… Shall I put in some sugar and milk? Black coffee can be quite bitter.’

‘How do you take it?’

‘I’m afraid I like it sweet. Nothing too strong.’

She slid a mug across the counter to him.

‘Why do you say it like that?’ he asked, wrapping his hands around the mug. ‘Like you’re embarrassed. Ain’t nothing wrong with liking what you like.’

She shrugged. ‘A lot of people disagree. They can be very judgemental.’

He took a sip of the coffee. ‘I don’t care what other people think.’

‘You’re sixteen,’ she said. ‘Other people would think about it very differently.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘I imagine you care what your parents think.’

He shifted position slightly. She saw the flash of pain and relief as he moved. Right. The bruising. She had to talk to him about that.

‘I care what my momma thinks,’ he said. ‘I care my daddy does.’

She looked at her coffee. ‘Did he do something to you?’

Lucas shrugged. ‘Why?’

Angie licked her lips. ‘During gym, I noticed that you have some bruises on your back. Did your father give you those?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’m too big for him to put over his knee and paddle anymore. I get the belt instead.’

He said with _humour_ as if there were something quietly amusing about the idea of his father struggling to beat him.

‘That’s terrible.’

Lucas cocked his head. ‘I can be real irritating,’ he said smiling slightly. ‘Tell the truth, Angie, I bet there’s been times you wanted to take me in hand.’

She laughed despite herself. ‘I would never strike you!’

He bumped her with his shoulder. ‘Not even if I asked you nice?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re changing the subject.’

Lucas shrugged. ‘I can think of things I’d rather talk to you about than my daddy.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘He’s runnin’ out of time and he knows it. Knowin’ it makes him mad.’

Angie turned towards him. ‘Running out of time… because you’re growing up?’

‘Yeah. He can only control my momma so long as he can control me.’ Lucas licked his lips. ‘She’s afraid of nothing but him taking me away. He’s a big man in these parts. If he went to the judge and asked him to make an order giving my daddy full custody, then he’d get it.’

‘But if the judge knew he was attacking you…’ She knew it was a stupid thing to say even before she saw his expression.

‘He’s my _father_ ,’ Lucas said. ‘He’s within his rights to discipline me. Say what you want about right and wrong, legally he can take his belt off to me and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.’

‘Not even your mother?’ She shook her head. ‘I suppose she’s too afraid.’

He looked for a moment as if she’d suggested that his mother might one day grow horns and a tail. ‘I think maybe I’ve given you the wrong impression of my momma,’ he said. ‘It’s true that my daddy raises his hand to her, but if he ever took a belt to her I think she’d take a gun to him.’

Angie shook her head. ‘My father died when I was younger than you are. I can’t imagine him ever taking his belt to me or hitting my mother.’

‘I might be more mischievous than you were,’ he suggested. ‘Although maybe you just get away with it more.’

She smiled slightly. ‘I can misbehave.’

He was looking at her intently. ‘Do you miss him?’

‘Every day.’ She stared into her cup. ‘Every day I wish I could see him one last time. Hold his hand one last time.’

She heard Lucas shift position and move his mug to the counter. Then he gently took her hand in his. They were larger than her hands but graceful and almost delicate. The heat of his skin sent waves of warmth up her arms.

‘What would you give for that?’ he asked, quietly but curiously.

‘Anything,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘People say that. They don’t mean it. Not really.’

She looked at him. At the eyes that were young and old. Innocent and knowing. Gentle and brutal.

‘I mean it,’ she said. ‘I would give anything. I would do anything.’

Lucas nodded. ‘Okay.’

_She saw her father in the kitchen of the summer house. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, showing the scruffy red hair that were sparsely scattered down his forearms. He turned towards her, looking down, and ruffled her hair._

_She said something. Something childish and meaningless. He scooped her into his arms and kissed the side of her cheek. She wrapped both her tiny hands around one of his. They were broad and rough with calloused skin and small scars._

Lucas’s hands were smooth and almost soft. He lifted one and brushed the tears from her face with his thumb.

Angie stared at him.

He sucked his thumb as if he was tasting her tears. Then he leaned in to kiss her. It was a little clumsy. It reminded her of awkward fumbles and stumbles when she had been so young and so uncertain.

‘We can’t do this,’ she muttered.

He smiled, charmingly. ‘Sure, we can.’

‘It’s wrong,’ she said. But she couldn’t force into words a commitment that she’d didn’t feel.

Lucas kissed her again. ‘Wrong’s just an opinion,’ he murmured. ‘And we had a deal.’

There was something else in that smile. Something else in those words. A little steel that she hadn’t seen before.

‘But I didn’t think…’ She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the rough texture of her father’s hand. ‘Can I see that again?’

‘Another time,’ he said. He was standing up now and gently pressing her back against the counter. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

‘You… You’re rushing,’ she breathed. ‘We’ll both enjoy it more if you take your time.’

Lucas nodded. ‘Patience has never come natural to me,’ he admitted. ‘But I’m looking forward to learning from you, Angie. All kinds of things.’

***

Lucas left her sleeping. She looked prettier asleep. Smaller too. An odd impulse urged him to tuck the covers around her. As he walked home, he thought about it. Tender impulses didn’t come naturally to him. Neither did gratitude but he felt some stirring of that as well. It was an odd sensation. Not painful so much and not entirely uncomfortable, but he’d have to keep an eye on that. It wouldn’t do to get mushy or anything. Wouldn’t be good for anyone.

He hadn’t showered. He could smell Angie on him, the mingled scents of her skin, perfume, and cosmetics, and he knew that anyone coming close enough would be able to smell it too.

His daddy’s truck was parked in front of the house. That meant he was planning on going out again, probably after he’d eaten. There was a young widow over by Jacksonville that he’d been sniffing around. Lucas had little interest in his daddy’s philandering except when it looked like it was going to affect him. Daddy Buck tended towards older ladies ready to leave him a lot of money when they died. Lucas had a pretty good idea why his daddy was interested in a young widow. So many years of telling Lucas that he wasn’t going to shape up as his heir and now the time was comin’ his daddy was getting nervous enough to think about breedin’ a replacement.

Well, they’d see about that.

As he shut the front door behind him, his daddy bellowed his name, just before the older man came stomping down the stairs. His face was red and his eyes bulging.

‘Where the hell have you been, boy?’ he snarled.

‘Wherever I want, old man,’ Lucas said.

The colour drained from his daddy’s face. He sniffed the air delicately, like a predator scenting prey. ‘Like that, is it?’ he asked. ‘You’ve got a little taste of power and you think that you’re ready to come after your father?’ 

Lucas set his shoulders. ‘No, Sir, but I think I deserve to be treated with some respect.’

His momma stepped into the hallway. ‘Lucas, you need to shower. You might be a man now but there’s no call for poor hygiene.’

Lucas gave her a half bow. ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘You bide your tongue, Sinclaire,’ his daddy said. ‘This is men’s business.’

Lucas glanced at her. That couldn’t go well. He watched warily as she put her hand on her hip.

‘We’ll talk about this later, Daniel.’ She pursed her lips. ‘At least own that Lucas deserves some respect.’

His daddy ignored her, instead looking at Lucas. ‘This where your power lies, boy, in _women_?’

Lucas shrugged. ‘Power is where you find it, Sir. I got no shame in the power of women.’

His daddy snorted. ‘Be real sure, Lucas. There’s no glory in being hag-ridden.’

Lucas took a step closer. ‘Seems to me, Daddy, that it’s only men afraid of women that worry about being hag-ridden. I ain’t afraid. I got no call to be.’

His daddy ground his teeth. ‘On your head be it, boy. Don’t complain I never warned you when some women starts making demands on you.’

Lucas smiled as he climbed the stairs and opened his bedroom door. He knew that he was only just at the start. That his power was only just beginning. Patience didn’t come naturally to him, but Angie was going to teach him a lot. One way or another.

The End.


End file.
